Rending

March 7, 2025

Yet even now, says the Lord,  return to me with all your heart,
with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; rend your hearts and not your clothing. ~ Joel 2:12-13 NRS

To rend is to tear something into two or more pieces, to cause great emotional pain. It is fitting that on Ash Wednesday the above text from Joel is used to remind us of how seriously we need to remember that God is God, and we are not. The sobering words “for dust you are and to dust you will return,” remind us of our mortality. 

The United States of America is a relatively young experiment in government by democracy. I have bought into the myth that ours’ is the greatest, best nation in the world. That arrogant myth has been eroded in my lifetime and has died a slow and painful death over the past decades. I love this country, just as I love my husband and my friends and my family and the church and try to love myself even though all are far from perfect. My heart was rendered on Ash Wednesday as I listened to the news and considered my own humanity and fallibility. Not able to get to church to have ashes imposed on my forehead, I allowed the tears to flow as a mark of mourning.

It seems only fitting that in this season, I am going through the experience of having a total knee replacement.  If you are squeamish, please skip the following paragraph that describes the process.

An incision down the front of the knee provides access for the surgeon to pull apart the muscles and tendons without cutting them. About a quarter inch is shaved off the ends of the tibia (shin) and femur (thigh) bones that make up the knee joint; and smooths off the inside of the patella (kneecap). Metal parts are added to the ends of the tibia and femur, a plastic cap is added to the inside of the patella and between the tibia and femur so that the metal can move smoothly when the joint is used.  Bone cement (who knew that such a thing exists!) holds the metal and plastic in place. Once all that is in place, three layers of staples and sutures and glue hold the incision together until the wound closes. It is an excruciating surgery and recovery, made tolerable only with the help of pain and inflammation medications, ice, elevation, walkers, a cane, and a team of physical therapists and aides and family and friends.

Twenty-three days after surgery, I have learned that the pain and trauma is accompanied by the miracle of how our human bodies, made from dust can heal, how wounds close, how with the help of others, I am getting better. It has been miserable. It is getting better. I have hope.

I have no idea what the future will hold. At my age, I am painfully aware of my mortality. But I do believe that rending can reset the body, the soul, and perhaps a nation. A new normal is possible, with the help of others, with the help of God, with patience and the pain of hard work.

Limping on – Anne